Ash Fallen Read online

  “Some of us more than others,” Stryker mumbled. He stopped midstride and gave Ash a pointed look.

  “I know what I’m doing.”

  “Hmph.”

  Silence. Then Stryker said, “Hey, do you remember when we were kids, and we went to that party in Old Man Kitsyn’s barn?”

  “Yes.” He wondered where Stryker was going with this.

  “And remember Himney had stolen his dad’s stash of chewing tobacco?”

  “Yes.” His eyes twinkled as he recalled that evening with fondness.

  “And as good as the chewing tobacco smelled, and regardless of the street cred it would have given me, you warned me not to try it. Told me that the consequences would outweigh the thrill.”

  Ash stopped and looked at his friend, realizing too late where this was headed.

  Stryker continued. “Of course, I didn’t listen. I couldn’t resist a taste. I’ll never forget that first tingling sensation when I put the tobacco in my mouth… Ended up losing my dinner over the railing of the loft and all down my shirt.”

  Ash laughed but Stryker’s expression turned sober. He placed a meaty hand on Ash’s shoulder and looked him square in the eye. “No matter how enticing, sometimes the taste isn’t worth the aftermath.”

  Lost for a response, Ash cleared his throat, then turned and knocked on the door to room 22 instead. He knew the man behind the door would validate his decision to keep Rosalie as a hostage. How he’d chosen to go about it might be another matter.

  When Marx answered the door, he motioned for the two men to enter. After looking around to ensure no one followed them, he closed the door and secured it behind him. Tonight, over beers, there was much to discuss.

  “I know that wasn’t the news you were hoping for,” Stryker said once the two friends were back outside.

  Ash nodded. “It is what it is. It’s still good news for the cause. Sometimes sacrifices have to be made.”

  Stryker nodded, but he doubted his friend fully believed the words he’d just spoken. He patted his pocket and pulled out a bitterroot cig.

  Ash gave him a sideways look.

  “Relax,” he said, holding up the cig. “This isn’t another metaphor.” He lit the cig, took a drag, then closed his eyes. “You know, I had my first taste of bitterroot when I was 12? I’ve had a love/hate relationship with it ever since.”

  “Smells disgusting,” Ash told him. “Never touched the stuff.”

  Stryker chuckled and patted his pocket again for more. “My friend, you don’t know what you’re missing.”

  Ash grunted. He knew what he was missing. And it wasn’t the bitterroot. On the way back to his room, he wrestled with his conscience until he landed on a decision. It wasn’t fair to Rosalie to lead her on when he knew the outcome. Without intending to, he’d blurred the lines between her captor and her lover. He needed to back off.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Ash could tell his indifference towards Rosalie was having an impact. More than once he caught the hurt in her eyes when he cold-shouldered her. From the start of the day until now, he hadn’t touched her. No morning kiss, no casual holding of her hand. He already missed it.

  At dinner he’d fought the urge to tuck a stray strand of her hair behind her ear. He’d clutched his fork instead and kept his eyes trained on his food.

  “I might go stay with Othelia tonight,” Rosalie announced once dinner was over.

  The announcement caught him by surprise. “Why?”

  Her eyes glistened with tears – tears he could tell she was fighting to hold back. “I think we could probably use a break from each other.” She forced a smile. It slayed him. He didn’t want to cause her pain.

  “I’d like you to stay.”

  “Would you?” Her eyes misted as she searched his for an honest answer.

  He nodded but didn’t say more. He ached to hold her but told himself he needed to stand firm. After all, he was doing the right thing. Wasn’t he?

  While Rosalie was busy getting ready for bed, Ash slipped out of the room to take a walk and clear the regret clouding his decision. As he passed by the dying campfire, he recalled how beautiful Rosalie looked in the glow of the flames. He’d seen the way other men gawked at her from across the campfire, but she’d never seemed to notice.

  He walked towards the stables. As he stopped in to check on the horses, he thought about the way her eyes lit up when she was around them; and how she’d won over Othelia, which was not an easy feat. Circling the laundry room, he was haunted by the memory of that first night she’d asked him to make love to her. He took one last walk around the perimeter of the camp then headed back to his room.

  When he opened the door, he saw Rosalie was already asleep. He stripped off his clothes and slipped into bed beside her, pulling her close and molding his body against hers. The scent of jasmine lingered in the air. He’d changed his mind. He couldn’t ignore her. He was going to try in every way to show her how much he cared about her. And he was going to do everything in his power to change the fate Marx had foreseen for her.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Ash nudged Rosalie awake before the rise of the morning sun. She stirred, murmured her displeasure of the early hour, and turned her back to him, facing the wall. She squeezed her eyes shut, blocking out the pain of his indifference the day before. She wondered how she’d face it another day. She’d fallen asleep thinking about it, dreamt about it, but the new day hadn’t brought the answers she’d been seeking.

  “I want to show you something, Roe,” Ash spoke up softly beside her. He skimmed his index finger over her shoulder and down her bare back. She did her best not to shiver at his touch.

  “Wake up, my beauty,” he tried again. She smiled to herself, still facing the wall. Ash leaned down, swept her hair out of her face, and placed a kiss on her cheek. He thought he tasted the salt of her tears. It left a dull ache inside him.

  “I want to show you something,” he repeated. “Will you come with me? You have to be very quiet though.”

  She turned to face him, nodded, but her face was void of emotion. He kissed her chin, then climbed out of bed and headed toward the dresser. Rosalie stared after his naked backside as he crossed the room. From the top dresser drawer, he produced two, thin robes. “Put this on,” he said, handing Rosalie one of the robes.

  She looked at him in confusion. “Shouldn’t I get dressed?”

  “Not where we’re going,” he said, giving her a lopsided grin.

  She climbed out of bed. Ash admired her naked frame as she slipped on the robe. He put on the second robe, then took her by the hand. The pair crept to the window and peeked through the curtains. The man tasked with guarding the door was snoring softly in his chair.

  “Volunteers,” Ash smirked. He eased the door open with care, putting his index finger to his lips to warn Rosalie to keep quiet. She rolled her eyes but smiled back at him. They crept past the guard and towards the back of the hostel. All the while Ash held Rosalie’s hand firmly in his. When they reached the backside of the inn, he pointed in the direction of the tree line just beyond the camp. Sun still asleep, Rosalie could barely see the outline of the trees against the darkened sky.

  “We’re headed in that direction. You up for it?”

  There was a chill in the air and she pulled her robe tighter. She nodded. Her heart pounded and her brain fired off mixed emotions. She felt exhilaration at the prospect of a shared adventure, the danger of being caught, and above all, uncertainty and confusion at his changed treatment of her. She let her hand rest in his as they raced towards the cover of the trees.

  Ash led her through the forest until they reached a clearing. Beyond the clearing was a small lake. Bigger than a pond, but not by much. Steam rose from the water as it bubbled and churned. Ivy vines with brilliant, white flowers grew wild, lining the perimeter of the lake and shining like stars against the gray sky. The night larks sang softly from the brush; a low, melancholy call.

  “It’s breathtaki
ng,” Rosalie said. She turned to look at Ash, who was shedding his robe. “What are you doing?”

  “Going for a swim.”

  “You’ll freeze.”

  “Trust me,” he said, winking in her direction. Then he ran towards the bubbling water, and dove in.

  Rosalie stared after him. When he didn’t resurface, she called out his name. Maybe he’d hit his head. Or perhaps the chill of the water had sent him into shock. This could be it, she realized; her moment of escape. She could run away under the cover of night. With her huntress skills, she was certain she could survive. But something kept her from leaving.

  In a matter of seconds, she began to rationalize why she couldn’t leave. She couldn’t abandon Ash if he was in trouble, could she? And what about Talon? Surely, she shouldn’t go without him.

  No, she decided, she couldn’t run. Instead, hair on her neck prickling with fear, she stripped off her own robe, ran towards the water’s edge, and dove in head-first after him.

  To her surprise, the water was warm. It felt like a soothing bath. When she popped her head up for air, she saw Ash bobbing above the surface, laughing.

  “You scared me!” she scolded.

  “But you were so cute jumping in to rescue me.”

  She splashed water in his direction. He ducked beneath the surface to avoid it, then popped back up.

  “The water’s so warm,” she said, surprised.

  “Yeah, it’s a fire lake. Something below the surface keeps it warm year-round.”

  “I’ve read about those. Never found one though. They’re rare, I hear.”

  “I rather like rare, beautiful things,” Ash said, swimming up beside her and brushing his naked body against hers. He stroked her cheek and she leaned into his hand. “Sorry about yesterday,” he told her.

  He didn’t offer an explanation for his actions, only an apology. Rosalie nodded, at a loss for how to respond.

  “You deserve better,” he told her solemnly. He cupped her chin in his hand, then leaned down and kissed her on the mouth. She wrapped her legs around him as his body formed to hers. The warmth of the water was nothing compared to the heat she felt from his presence.

  When they made their way back to the camp, the sun had long since risen.

  “I guess there’ll be no sneaking back,” Ash said. But he didn’t seem concerned. He held Rosalie’s hand in his as they strolled through the trees.

  “Hold up,” she said, pausing on the path.

  “What is it?”

  She strayed a short distance from the path, then knelt down next to a leafy, flowering plant. She tugged with both hands and the plant uprooted with ease. With delicate precision, she began to separate the thick, long roots from its stem.

  “What are you doing?” Ash asked.

  “Bitterroot,” she explained.

  She snapped the lengths of the roots in half, placed them in the pocket of her robe, then wiped the dirt from her hands. “I’ve noticed some of the men like it.” What she didn’t say was, she’d noticed Stryker liked it; and she hoped to present it to him as a peace offering.

  Before they left the covering of the tree line, Ash stopped, turned towards Rosalie and tightened her robe around her. His own robe gaped open, exposing his chest, but she didn’t try to fix it. She liked the view.

  Breakfast was being set out when they arrived back at camp. Ash caught Stryker’s disapproving look but chose to ignore it.

  “Want breakfast?” he asked Rosalie.

  She made a face. “Not if it’s more of that mush.”

  “I think we can do better than that.”

  After a quick stop at their room to dress, they raided the kitchen. Rosalie cut up fruit while Ash popped bread in the toaster and rummaged through the fridge for butter.

  “You need a haircut,” she observed, watching the way his hair fell into his face each time he bent down.

  “Yeah, well I haven’t had time to find a barber.”

  “I could do it,” she offered.

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, I used to cut my little brother’s hair all the time. Sometimes my dad’s if my mom got busy.”

  “Hmm…” He stroked his chin, considering.

  “What, are you afraid I’ll make those luscious locks too short?” she teased.

  “Actually, I’m afraid of what you might do if I armed you with a sharp pair of scissors.” His eyes twinkled with humor.

  She held up the knife she was using to cut the fruit. “Umm… you forget I’m already armed.” She shot him a wink. But as she did, the image of Talon surfaced in the back of her mind and she felt a wave of guilt at not giving the knife more consideration as a weapon. For Talon’s sake.

  Ash took a chair from the office and brought it to the outer courtyard. Rosalie rummaged through the kitchen drawer and managed to find a decent pair of scissors. From the front office, she grabbed an extra bath towel, a glass of water, and a comb, then joined Ash in the outer courtyard.

  “Take a seat,” she instructed.

  He sat down, but he looked nervous.

  “Oh, good grief, you are afraid I’ll mess up that beautiful hair, aren’t you?”

  “Just take a little off the top,” he said, looking sheepish.

  She rolled her eyes, then began to work. She draped the towel over his shoulders, dipped her comb in the glass of water, then raked it through his hair. His hair was thick and silky. She let her fingers skim through it more than was necessary. She combed his hair, held a section between two fingers, then used the scissors to trim the excess length.

  Ash watched the hair fall to the ground, squirmed uncomfortably, but didn’t say anything.

  Rosalie repeated her movements – each time letting her fingers walk through his locks and massage his scalp. After a few minutes, he relaxed and let her work.

  As she was finishing up, a man wandered over and stood behind Ash’s chair. Another man followed suit, positioning himself behind the first man and forming the start of a line. Rosalie grinned. “You boys want a haircut?”

  They both smiled back at her and nodded.

  “Okay, I’ll be just a few minutes.”

  “All done,” she told Ash once she’d finished styling his newly trimmed hair. She removed the towel from his shoulders and shook it out. “Now get a move on, we have a line.”

  He turned around in his chair, taking in the growing line of men. His eyebrows shot up in surprise. Begrudgingly, he got up out of his chair and offered it to the man behind him.

  “She’s all yours,” he said. Not liking how his statement sounded, he amended, “The chair’s all yours.”

  The man turned red. Rosalie smiled to herself, then asked the man, “How would you like it?” Ash shot her a warning look at her mocking inuendo.

  Rosalie thought she was finishing up with her last customer when Stryker approached her. He didn’t stand behind the chair; he stood beside it, looking impatient.

  “Haircut?” she asked, her voice warbling.

  He nodded.

  After she finished with her current haircut, she thanked the man for his patience, then instructed Stryker to take a seat. Her fingers trembled as she combed through his blondish-white hair. “Still want this side long?” she asked timidly, referring to the side that covered the scar on his cheek. The last thing she wanted to do was offend him.

  “No more than chin length.”

  She nodded, then got to work. She found herself unable to make the idle chitchat that came so easily with the others.

  “I see you’ve finally found something useful to do,” he said rudely.

  Rosalie squeezed the scissors firmly in her hand and took a breath. “I’ve managed to find a few things to make myself useful.” She wanted to remind him that she was the reason his meals had improved and his clothes were clean.

  “Yeah, I suppose Ash could attest to that,” he smirked.

  Her cheeks burned and her neck tightened in anger. “That’s not what I meant,” she hissed.r />
  Stryker shrugged.

  She sped things up, clipping off a bigger section of hair than she normally would.

  “May I remind you,” she said, speaking slowly but working at a vigorous pace, “that I didn’t ask to be here. Believe me, I’d rather be back home and far away from this place and all of you.” As she spurted out the words, she wasn’t sure how much she believed them, but she thought they got her point across.

  “Finally, something we can agree on.” His tone was flat; hollow.

  Exasperated, Rosalie finished the haircut in silence. When she was done, she removed the towel, wiped the hair from his shoulders, then announced, “All done.”

  Those two words were of great comfort to her.

  When Stryker stood to leave, she said, “Oh, I almost forgot. This is for you.” She removed the bitterroot from her pants pocket, pressed it into his palm, then walked away; her shoulders squared with pride.

  Stryker watched her saunter away. When he opened his hand to see what she’d given him, he softened a little. He exhaled slowly and felt an unfamiliar wave of shame.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Each time Ash left base camp to invade another village, Rosalie felt new depths of self-loathing for not trying to stop him. She also feared she’d never see him again. Most mornings he stayed in bed with her as long as he could, but he had his duties. Rosalie felt confused at the way she’d grown to depend on him. She wasn’t used to it. She hated it and reveled in it all at once.

  They’d argued the night before. Ash remained evasive about his plans. Rosalie found it hard to reconcile the gentle man she’d fallen for with the one who left her bed each morning to pull unsuspecting people from their homes.

  “I wish you felt like you could confide in me,” she’d told him.

  “It’s best that I don’t.”

  Though spoken gently, his words stung. When she’d tried to press him, he’d shut her down. “You’re going to have to trust me,” he’d said dismissively.

  “You haven’t given me a reason to,” she’d shot back. It wasn’t true. He’d given her many reasons to. But what he was doing couldn’t be ignored. She needed a reason for his actions. And she hoped to the gods it was a good one.